Tainted Scarlet
by SierryaSkye
Summary: Jane comes face to face with Red John, who gives him one final parting gift— A video of the night the psychopathic serial killer murdered Jane's family. One-shot.


**Tainted Scarlet**

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><p>"Alright this is it. Move in." Lisbon waved for her small army of three to follow her with weapons brandished. She threw in another order as a precautionary measure, "Jane stay behind me."<p>

Like stealthy night prowlers, the group spilt to search the house bare of both people and furniture. The emptiness of each room cast an eerie aura upon the four agents of the law and one of vengeance as they searched the precarious house. Each one proceeded as they walked on pins and needles until they joined together in front of a simple white door concealing the last room to be checked. They shared a look of mixed determination and fright, they knew— just behind that door waited the demonic, depraved soul that alluded them murder after gruesome murder. In that room awaited serial killer Red John.

Jane, unable to restrain himself, took four large strides past Lisbon and threw open the door in one swift movement. He stepped into a small room painted grey with no windows or other doors. Facing the entrance of the room hung a flat screen TV, which flashed bright white, one would surmise it was rigged to turn on when the door opened. Before the TV sat a small wooden chair, perhaps one a child might have in his or her room. Jane's eyes flitted to a body at the side of his room, but he focused back on the blank white screen.

There was only a second delay before the rest of the team rushed in behind Jane. The four of them looked to the TV, but unlike Jane they flocked to the body at the side of the room.

"He's dead." Cho broke the silence that brimmed with an unspoken disappointment and anger.

Lisbon closed her arms over her chest in consternation and contemplated their next move. She was next to break the dead silence, "We've been monitoring this house carefully, he couldn't have escaped... And this can't be him."

All eyes turned to the screen, which had started to play what seemed be a home-made video. The bad lighting, static sound quality, and shaky camera work made it a full package. Even though she looked at the screen, Lisbon wracked her brain trying to figure out what went wrong.

The television showed a moonlit landscape, and everyone in the room subconsciously took shallower breaths so that they might make out the muffled sounds in the video.

"Hello Patrick." A younger version of the man currently dead in the room, they all did a double take and the resemblance was clear, suddenly came onto the screen with his arm stretched out in front of him. "I hear you have been talking about me." A devil's smirk spread over his dark and shaded features. "So I thought I would stop by." The camera pointed towards a large house and started to shake as the man walked. The picture blurred when the camera moved from the man's hands to, what Jane and the rest of the group assumed to be, his front pocket. It must have been one of those miniature cameras. Once the camera was settled, the picture cleared up significantly.

"God have mercy…" Lisbon looked in horror at the screen, as did Cho, VanPelt, and Rigsby. Jane remained silent and didn't so much as flinch.

The camera traveled up a long stone pathway from the road to the front of the house, then turned to the left, and stopped at a porch door. Rubber gloved hands reached out to pick the lock. No alarm went off and the house was silent.

It was eleven o'clock and Patrick knew he wouldn't be making it home for another hour. The camera slowly and quietly passed its way through the dimly lit house then climbed up the main staircase.

Once again, the group watched as gloved hands reached out, but this time they taped a simple piece of white paper to one the bedroom doors. The small plain typed words were left unread as their eyes were drawn to a hand drawing a red smiley face at the corner of the page. A hushed deep cackle broke the static emptiness.

"Jane you don't need to watch this come on." Lisbon grabbed his arm to pull him away, but he stood rooted to the carpeted floor completely petrified as he watched Red John walk through his very own home. Lisbon's hand slipped from his arm and her eyes wandered back to watching the harrowing nightmare unfold before her very eyes.

The picture shuddered and spun as the man turned around and headed down the hall that was lit by the dusky moonlight slipping through two large windows. A hand slowly opened a door, which revealed pink walls illuminated by a soft white night light at the extremity of the room. Amongst feathery pillows, stuffed animals, and a over-sized comforter, a little angle with long blond curls slept in her sanctuary.

The glint of a blade showed in the picture as Red John pulled knife from its sheath. He skulked nearer and nearer until the blade hovered inches from Charlotte's pale skin. There was a deathly long pause when the little girl started to stir, before she fell back into her deep slumber. Something akin to a satanic ritual commenced.

The blade's wielder made one effective slice ensuring the night's serenity and the indefinite solitude of the angel. Blood spilled from her neck, and began to ooze from her chest into her nightgown as he made cross shaped cuts across her chest and stabbed her stomach. He did it slowly, taking pleasure every time he drew more blood from her precious skin.

He lifted the girl into his arms and her head fell back lifelessly. The view shifted back to the door, then he swiftly traveled to the door with the note. The door opened with a sick amount of ease from the villain, like carrying dead bodies was a normality for him.

The camera's view honed in on a woman lying in a king sized bed by herself. There was a faint slam as he shut the door with his foot, before he closed in on his target. The room was dark, dark enough for the perpetrator to slink across the floor unnoticed, yet light enough just to make out the general features of the woman's face as the camera neared.

At the sound of the door closing, Angela awoke from a light sleep and with closed eyes called out sleepily. "Come to bed. I haven't seen you all day, and before you comment, watching you on TV doesn't count." You could just hear the smile playing on her lips when she greeted the man she thought was her husband. "Patrick?" Angela woke up a little bit more and tried to focus her bleary eyes when no one replied. "Is everything alright?"

The dead girl suddenly dropped onto the bed from her murder's arms right beside the woman. A blood curdling scream pierced through the room as Angela flipped on the lights, to see the slick blood spilling from her baby girl's body and the dark psychotic face of a slaughterer looming above her. She started to crawl away, but froze in horror when he roughly grabbed her arm.

"I see panic in your eyes, horror and fear. But there's no reason to be scared." The male voice was relaxed and a little lighter toned than one would think belonged to a murderer.

"No, no, NO!" She shook her arm wildly and tried to get his grip off her arm, as tears ran down her face in torrents. She clutched her baby girl with her free arm, even though she knew Charlotte was gone.

"You see the thing is," he sighed, "I am just a normal guy. If it were up to me, I wouldn't even be here." He let go of her arm, and she took the opportunity to jump off the bed and run for the door. The camera blurred due to the swift reflexes of the killer. When the picture came back into focus it showed the woman was once again in Red John's grip. "Now now, there is no use in running." He sent the woman flying backwards and her head slammed against the wall with a nauseating thud.

"Where was I? Ah yes, Patrick is the reason I'm here. He needs to learn to use some discretion when he opens that mouth of his. I for one am _very_ offended, I don't deserve to be slandered on the media. Despite what you may think now, I do have feelings. After all I'm just human." The "human" walked to the woman sprawled on the floor and continued his speech.

"But like an angel sent from God, I am here to save Patrick from his sins. With your help my dear, perhaps we can turn him into the self-loathing, tormented, lonely, and hateful man he tells the world I am." He roughly took her face in his hand and lifted her eyes to him. "It's a pity really, you are beautiful."

"Get the hell away from me." She spit in his face and he released her face angrily.

The throbbing in her head dissipated as her eyes kindled with pure hatred. Any trace of fear was gone. She lifted her head and slowly pushed her body up. "It just kills you inside doesn't it, Red John?"

Her head swam and he interjected. "How sweet you know my name."

She ignored him and continued talking after she regained her balance, "You want to turn him into the miserable son of a bitch and pathetic excuse for a human being you are, but that won't happen. Patrick is a good man, and that's something you won't warp with our deaths. You, on the other hand, are going to rot in hell, but not before dying alone in a dark room with nothing to show for your bitterness and pettiness!"

There was a deathly long pause. "I was considering killing you like that thing over there," Red John gestured to the slashed up girl, "but you've decided to make this more even more enjoyable for me." He said lightly, though a very distinct dark edge of anger sounded in his tone that hadn't been there previously. "And I wouldn't put so much hope in Mr. Jane." He plunged his knife into her leg and she screamed in pain. "I know him too, and he'll be a _wreck_."

Her fist slammed into the camera in a struggle to fight him off and the screen went pitch black. Jane closed his eyes and listened to his wife's haggard voice, "You're wrong, he will move on…he'll be fine… Patrick…. Don't blame…"

No more words were exchanged, but in their place demented laughter and screams of torture filled the air, until the hellish noise ever so slowly faded to the sound of Angela's quiet breathing. Silence passed over the room.

Five speechless onlookers stared at the screen, three of which in tears, and waited to see if the film would continue.

Red John came back on screen. He sat in the exact same tiny chair Jane currently leaned on for support. "You have no idea how much it saddens me to finish our game. It has been so much fun, but we both know it is time for this to end. I dug up that video as a little parting gift, I thought it would make a nice touch, dramatic ending and all. Also to prove that this," he pointed to where his body now laid at the side of the room, "is indeed me. I would say it's sad to die," he pulled out an orange bottle of prescription medicine and shook the death sentence inside, "but I don't think you will be forgetting me anytime soon, and that makes me very happy. Man, wasn't your wife a piece of work? If only she could have lived to see how you thrived on vengeance and self-loathing for the last nine years. She was dead wrong about you… so to speak." He chuckled.

"Good bye Patrick and I've had a wonderful time my lovely Teresa. Congratulations, you finally caught me." Red John bowed enthusiastically and the screen went black for the final time.

Through the darkness his voice whispered the old words of William Blake describing the creature so fearsome and destructive, yet one so wondrously made.

_"**Tyger! Tyger! burning bright,**_

_In the forests of the night;_

_What immortal hand or eye_

_Could frame thy fearful symmetry?..._

_**And what shoulder, & what art,**_

_Could twist the sinews of thy heart?_

_And when thy heart began to beat,_

_What dread hand? & what dread feet?..._

_**When the stars threw down their spears,**_

_And watered heaven with their tears,_

_Did he smile his work to see?_

_Did he who made the Lamb make thee?"_

His voice died off. Everyone in the room continued to stare at the television as if he might appear once more or utter another taunt.

Cho leaned against a wall, Rigsby stood not more than one step into the room, and Van Pelt stood inches from Rigsby feeling like her knees would collapse. The three looked at Jane's back while Lisbon cast a downtrodden look to Red John's body as she stood beside Jane.

"Damn it. Damn it!" Jane picked up the chair he stood next to and flung it against the wall, everyone flinched at the loud crash. "You bastard!" He yelled at the dead man on the floor, who seemed to smirk up at them all with a lopsided grimace and eyes as black as night.

"I should have expected this." Hot tears streamed down Jane's face. "And that?" Jane pulled out a gun and waved madly it at the TV. "What was that suppose to be?" Jane shot three bullets into the Red John's chest. "A reminder? Like I haven't known for every goddamn second of these last nine hellish years that you murdered my family, that I murdered them!"

"You lead me on some twisted game and in the end you take away the last thing I had, the pleasure of cutting you open myself and watching you bleed." Jane started to laugh manically. "Hahahaha!" He ran his fingers through his blond hair with his free hand. "Since the beginning, there was never a chance that I would win was there? Too bad I didn't think of killing myself first! It certainly would have saved us both a lot of trouble!" Jane shot the man in the head one more time. "It was all useless."

As he aimed to shoot again Lisbon mustered the courage to cautiously step in front of Jane."Jane that's enough! He's already dead, this won't do anything."

His aim faltered, but he looked at Lisbon with livid eyes. "Move out of the way Teresa."

Lisbon stared terrified at the man before her. Terrified not because of the gun pointed in her direction, but because of the raw emotion on Jane's face that made her think he just might turn the gun on himself. The broken soul vivid in his eyes, made her feel like breaking down into tears herself, but she remained as cool as she could manage.

Lisbon took a cautious step to him and put her hand on top of the gun to push the barrel down facing the ground. "No matter how he says it, Jane you beat him. He's finally been stopped, it doesn't matter how it happened." She paused and stared at Jane who looked between her, Red John, and the TV.

The gun ever so slowly slipped from his hand as his fingers lost their strength, and he dropped to his knees with it. Lisbon kicked the gun to Rigsby, who slowly picked it up. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the room. Van Pelt and Cho to follow after him, all three thought it would be best to give Jane space. They stood right outside listening and thinking to themselves as they pressed their bodies against the outer walls of the room.

Jane calmed himself down just long enough to suppress his insanity and plead for a moment of solitude. Lisbon wanted to stay, she knew Jane should not be left alone, but she conceded to his request when he begged her again.

As she turned to walk out of the room, the TV flickered on again and the video began to loop. "Hello Patri-." Lisbon took out her own gun and shot the damn thing, making the other three agents peak into the room for a moment to make everything was alright.

"Two minutes." Lisbon walked out and shut the door behind her, letting Jane have a moment of privacy. When Jane heard the door close his body slumped and he let his hatred, relief, guilt, anger, and sadness pour from his soul.

"I shouldn't have watched that, it wasn't my place." Grace uttered softly, speaking the minds of the others. She felt like crying all over again just thinking about Jane sitting in that room alone, beaten, and broken.

Lisbon looked at her team's grim expressions, and even though she felt like that herself, she wiped the wetness from her eyes and put on a brave face. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but in the end this worked out for the best. Red John knew he was cornered, he knew he couldn't get away this time. We beat him. And you saw what Jane just did, if he had come face to face with Red John, we might not have been able to keep Jane from doing something stupid...again."

"Should we call it in?" Rigsby asked.

Lisbon looked back at the door unsure of their next move. The door opened suddenly and Jane walked out, right past them, and to the front of the house. He walked by so quickly they didn't even see his face, though they saw that an unnerving deep scarlet color tainted his hands.

They all looked into the room, and a four foot wide smiley face stared back at them drawn in what they hoped was Red John's blood.

"Call it in." Lisbon said quickly and ran after Jane leaving Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt standing there silently, with the cruel smiley face burning into their mind. It was all over, but the chilling sensation never lifted. They felt an unexplainable presence with them, they had this feeling that Red John would haunt them until the day they died.

"Jane?" Lisbon called after Jane who walked down the street at a fast pace, to where he was going she didn't know. He didn't know either, he just couldn't stand being in that suffocating house for one more second. He stopped and looked at Lisbon, with a now calm look in his red, puffy eyes.

"It doesn't feel like it's over." His voice cracked and sounded raw. "I'm not sure if I wasted a decade of my life for nothing or not." His laugh was hollow, and its emptiness and sorrow sent shivers down Lisbon's spine.

"Jane-" Lisbon started, but her cut her off, "You don't, need to say anything."

Lisbon was silent and Jane turned his back to her. He walked a couple steps away and then walked back right to her. He handed over his badge with a sad smile, genuine despite his grief.

"Thank you Teresa, for putting up with me." Lisbon couldn't hold the tears back any longer, and she stared at Jane hoping that he wasn't serious. She reached out and grabbed his badge, not breaking eye contact for a second. She slipped it in her pocket, and wiped the few tears falling down her face.

"Please don't cry on my account." Jane said.

Neither of them expected it, but Jane gently wrapped his arms around her small body and embraced her. Lisbon cried into his shoulder and he patted her on the back softly. They both felt comfort in each other's arms for a brief moment until he pulled away, and whispered in her ear, "Good-bye." She sniffled as she looked up at him as he backed up and started to walked away again.

"T-That's it?" Lisbon's voice caught in her throat. "You're just gonna leave?" She knew he needed time and space, but she couldn't smother the fear hammering inside her that if she let Jane go now, he might never come back.

He stopped, but didn't reply.

She tried again. "Patrick I better see you around okay?"

Patrick didn't make an attempt to answer, because he honestly didn't know. He shut his eyes tightly, and opened them in fear when he saw his daughter being stabbed by a psychopath. The cried of his wife's screams still pierced his ears. The pain was all too fresh, and with Red John deceased Patrick no longer had a purpose to his life. All he knew was that he needed to get away, start a new life for himself, if he could manage. So he walked, each step heavier than the last, leaving Teresa behind to watch her closest friend walk away until she couldn't see his broad, slumped shoulders any longer.

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><p>An: Excerpt taken from William Blake's poem, the _Tyger_. I DID NOT WRITE IT.

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><p><strong>Edit<strong>: This will remain a one-shot. Before I said there might be a sequel, but I believe writing more would take away from what I've already done. Thank you for reading my story, I hope you enjoyed it! For those of you who left a review thanks c:

Lastly, shout out to criminalxxxmindsxxxfreak who left me a sweet review when I was freaking out about no one reviewing this story back when I initially posted this ^^; So if you ever read this again, thank you so much :) It meant a lot.


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